A Product Of Your Environment
by Jason Ex
Summary: HOME MOVIES fanfic. New chapter added. Crime and Punishment come home to roost for Brendon Small. Or at least, in the movie he and his friends make.
1. Chapter One

(Cut to a shot of the soccer yard. Brendon and Coach are on the sidelines, as usual.)  
  
Coach McGurik: Oh dear God, Brendon. What are they doing...  
  
(Cut to a shot of the soccer field. Walter is dribbling the ball in the wrong direction, towards his team's own goal.)  
  
Coach: Walter, no! The other direction! Go in the other direction!  
  
(Walter reaches the goal and kicks the ball in. Perry is the guard. They both start jumping up and down, laughing and hugging.)  
  
Perry: Yay! We win! We win!  
  
Walter: We win, we win!  
  
(Walter and Perry dance around the field, hugging and laughing. Cut back to Coach on the sidelines.)  
  
Coach: Jesus, Brendon. These kids. I just don't know what to do.  
  
Brendon: Maybe you should call a huddle.  
  
Coach: Good idea. Alright, everybody gather round! This is a huddle! Walter, Perry! Dance your silly asses over here and shut up!  
  
(The kids all group in a half circle around Coach. Brendon gets off of the bench and joins them.)  
  
Coach: Alright, we're gonna call it a day. You're all a disgrace to the sport of soccer. And because of that, I'm going to write each of your parents a letter, telling them just how lousy you all are, and how I pray every night to get hit by a truck on the way to work, just so I never have to watch you play again.  
  
(Coach leans over to Brendon and whispers.)  
  
Coach: I'm not really going to write the letters.  
  
(Whispering) Brendon: Yeah, I know. Maybe you should tell them that.  
  
Coach: Hm. You're right. (Raises his voice and stands in front of the group again.) Okay, everybody go home, or back to class. Or whatever. No letters. That was just a joke. You're still lousy, but it was only a joke.  
  
Brendon: Uh...Coach McGuirk.  
  
Coach: Brendon. You're still here. What do you want. Class is dismissed.  
  
Brendon: Well I...  
  
Coach: Well hurry up, Brendon. I'm on a tight schedule here. Things to do, people to see.  
  
Brendon: Well you see...you drink beer, right?  
  
Coach: Is that it? I see. Well you know, as a teacher I'm not supposed to admit to any filthy habits I might have.  
  
Brendon: Coach, you scratch yourself in front of us every day.  
  
Coach: Bet that as it may, Brendon, the point is, we're discouraged from letting any of the children know that we drink or smoke or go to cock fights in Tiajuana every other month.  
  
(Cut to a short image of Coach yelling and kneeling by a dusty cock fighting ring, latin americans surrounding him, and a beer in his hand. Cut back to the sidelines at the field.)  
  
Brendon: Uh...so is that a yes?  
  
Coach: I think I know what you're getting at You want me to be your hook up. Your supplier. What is it, you got a little party planned this weekend? Well I can do that for you. But it's gonna cost you.  
  
Brendon: Uh...Coach...  
  
Coach: Nothing's free, Brendon. I'm putting my neck on the line here for you. It's gonna be at least ten bucks over the purchase price of whatever booze you may need.  
  
Brendon: Coach...  
  
Coach: Okay, okay. Five bucks. But that's a bargain. You won't find that kind of deal anywhere else.  
  
Brendon: Uh, actually I was more interested in the cans. And the bottles. You know, empty ones.  
  
(Coach looks shifty eyed for a minute.)  
  
Coach: What is this. Are you 5-0? Is this a sting? Do you need my fingerprints or something? What do you want with my saliva.  
  
(Cut to a brief shot of Coach laying drunk on a living room floor. Empty cans and bottles surrounding him in a pile. He takes a swig of a bottle. Cut back to the sidelines on the field.)  
  
Brendon: Well, you see, it's for recycling.  
  
Coach: Recycling?  
  
Brendon: Yeah. I saw this documentary about pollution and the environment. And now I'm recycling.  
  
Coach: I see. And that's why you want my cans and bottles.  
  
Brendon: Yeah.  
  
Coach: Am I going to get them back?  
  
Brendon: Well, no. You turn them in and they give you some money.  
  
Coach: I always knew you were a grifter, Brendon. Trying to pull the wool over my eyes. This is quite a scam you've cooked up.  
  
Brendon: It's not a scam. It's...it's for the environment.  
  
Coach: Whatever you say. I want ten percent.  
  
Brendon: Uh...  
  
Coach: Alright, five. But you're not going to get any better than that.  
  
Brendon: Um...deal?  
  
Coach: Alright. Good. Now shake my hand. That makes it official.  
  
(They briefly shake each other's hands.)  
  
Coach: I'll stop by your place later tonight with the goods.  
  
Brendon: Sure thing, Coach.  
  
(Walter and Perry spin by, still hugging and dancing.)  
  
Walter and Perry: We win! We win! We win! We win! 


	2. Chapter Two

(Establishing shot of the Small house. Starts wide, then zooms in towards the living room window. A fly splats against the glass, showing that we were following the insect's POV. Continue through the window, fade to another room where Brendon, Melissa, and Jason are in the middle of making a new movie.)  
  
(The scene is the inside of a courthouse. Jason is the judge, sitting at a cardboard box for a desk and using a rubber mallet for a gavel. He's dressed in the traditional black robe, however the sleeves have yellow stripes. Also, for some reason he's wearing one of the old style powdered wigs on his head.  
  
Mellissa is seated at another cardboard desk. She's dressed in a gray suit jacket and skirt, and is wearing small heels.  
  
Seated at the final desk is Brendon. His costume is a black and white striped convicts uniform, complete with matching hat. As the scene begins, he's rubbing his hands together and darting his eyes back and forth in a nervous fashion.)  
  
(Jason bangs the gavel on the desk, causing it to squeak each time)  
  
Jason: Here ye, hear ye. This court is now in order. All rise.  
  
(Brendon and Melissa stand up.)  
  
Jason: You may be seated.  
  
(They sit down.)  
  
Jason: Wait a minute, all rise again.  
  
(They stand again, looking confused.)  
  
Jason: Okay. Seat yourselves. Oh hold on. All rise.  
  
(They stand once more. Melissa approaches the bench.)  
  
Melissa: With all due respect, your honor, could we please get on with the trial?  
  
Jason: Sorry, sorry. I never get tired of that gag. Okay, let's get this party started. Uh...prosecution, you may begin.  
  
Melissa: Thank you, your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury...  
  
(Melissa looks over to a box of stuffed animals and action figures, arranged in rows to simulate a jury.)  
  
Melissa: We have gathered here today to pass sentence upon Julius E. Brownshwagin, having been convicted of breaking the anti-pollution laws of this country. His crimes against humanity are too numerous to list, and as he has shown no remorse we ask for the maximum sentence.  
  
Jason: Does the criminal have anything to say in his defense?  
  
Brendon: Uh...  
  
Ding-dong.  
  
(The doorbell for Brendon's house rings.)  
  
Brendon: Mom! Could you get the door? We're in the middle of a movie!  
  
(Cut to a shot of Paula next to the stove in the kitchen, trying to cook on a skillet with one hand while bouncing her daughter with the other.)  
  
Paula: And I'm just trying to make dinner and raise you and your sister, but sure, I'll get the door, sweetness. You keep making your little movie.  
  
(Cut back to Brendon. He's moved from his seat and started adjusting the video camera.)  
  
Brendon: Thanks, Mom!  
  
(Cut back to Paula, frowning. She turns the stove off and carries the baby to the door with her. Cut to a shot of Paula's face as she opens the door. She looks unpleasantly surprised.)  
  
Paula: Oh...uh. Hi, John.  
  
(Coach McGuirk is standing at the door, a bag of garbage in one hand.)  
  
Coach: Hello, Paula. And how are you this evening.  
  
Paula: I'm kind of busy right now. What are you doing here?  
  
(She lightly bounces the baby in her arms to keep her from crying. A line of drool runs out of the child's mouth.)  
  
Coach: What. Didn't Brendon tell you? He and I have some business to discuss.  
  
Paula: (turns her head into the house, yelling) Brendon! Get in here! (turns back to Coach) What kind of business?  
  
Coach: He and I had a little talk this morning at school. We've agreed to be partners in one of his get rich quick schemes.  
  
Paula: Schemes?  
  
Coach: Oh, you know how he is. One day it's recycling, the next it's smuggling diamonds. You should keep an eye on him. Before you know it he'll be counterfitting 20's in your basement.  
  
Paula: John, I think you might have my son confused with someone else. Possibly a dream brought on during an alcoholic haze? I really don't have time for this. (she moves to shut the door, but he sticks his foot in the way)  
  
Coach: Ouch. No need for name calling. But maybe you're right. (Puts one hand on his chin thoughtfully, his eyebrows raised) I think the smuggling was on an episode of McGuyver I saw the other night. But this...(lifts the trash bag, flies buzzing around it)...I'm positve your son wanted this.  
  
Paula: (turns her head back inside again) Brendon! Oh! (she looks down, surprised. Brendon's standing next to her)  
  
Brendon: Keep it down, Mom. I'm right here. Hey, Coach.  
  
Coach: Brendon. The man of the hour. Your mom doesn't believe me about our deal.  
  
Brendon: It's cool, Mom. Coach is helping me recycle. (He looks at the nasty bag of trash in Coach's hand) Uh...you did remember to sort that before you brought it over, right?  
  
Coach: Sort? I have to sort it? I'm not a pig, Brendon. I don't wallow around in my own filth. Not for all the nickles in the world. Well...there was that one time in Vegas. (cut to a brief shot of Coach passed out in a dumpster behind a casino)  
  
Brendon: Uh, you know. Glass, paper, plastic?  
  
Coach: Hold on. This is getting complicated. This wasn't a part of the deal. Are you trying to cheat me, Brendon? (He squints one eye suspiciously) I don't take this sort of thing lightly, if you know what I mean.  
  
Paula: (she sighs in exasperation) John, stop threatening my son and throw that stuff in the trash can. Brendon, get back inside and go finish your movie.  
  
Coach: Movie?  
  
Brendon: Uh, yeah. I'm making a movie about the consequences of pollution.  
  
Coach: Can I be in it?  
  
Brendon: Well...uh...  
  
Coach: Listen, I'll put this whole mess behind us if you just let me have a part.  
  
Brendon: Well...we did need a defense attorney...  
  
Coach: Great. Sign me up. (Tosses the bag of garbage into the yard and steps inside the house.) You got anything to drink?  
  
(Cut back to the courtroom set. Coach is sitting next to Brendon as his lawyer, an ill-fitting blazer serving as his costume.)  
  
Squeak, squeak, squeak. (Jason bangs the rubber mallet)  
  
Jason: Okay, people. We're working on a time table here. I have a golf appointment at 3 o' clock. Let's see if we can finish this thing today. Now does the defendant have anything to say on his behalf, before we find him guilty anyways?  
  
Melissa: Uh, your honor. He's already been found guilty. This is his sentencing hearing.  
  
Jason: Oh right. Good call.  
  
(They sit there for a moment, silent. Eventually Brendon nudges Coach with his elbow.)  
  
Brendon: (whispering) That's your cue.  
  
Coach: Oh, yeah. Okay. Uh...What was it you did again?  
  
Brendon: I was the CEO of a textile corporation, and knowingly allowed my factories to pollute a nearby river.  
  
Coach: Any mutants come out of that?  
  
Brendon: A few, yeah.  
  
Coach: Cool. Uh...your honor...Give him the chair. He's a liar. And a hypocrite. He tried to steal my nickels and my garbage.  
  
Brendon: What are you doing?  
  
Squeak squeak squeak  
  
Jason: I've heard enough. This court sentences the defendant to 80 thousand life sentences in a maximum security prison. Uh...30 million dollars in fines...and...a lethal injection.  
  
Melissa: Uh, how is he supposed to serve his life sentences if you give him a lethal injection?  
  
Jason: You're right. Uh...a non-lethal injection, then. You'll get flu shots once a day for 40 years. And not on your arm.  
  
Brendon: But that's not fair! All I did was pollute the environment a little!  
  
Jason: You should've thought about that before hiring such a lousy attorney, sucka.  
  
Squeak squeak squeak  
  
Jason: This court is adjourned.  
  
(sound of a cell door slamming shut as the scene fades to black) 


End file.
